


human.exe

by my-ruu (riotousorder)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: CEO Keith, Cyberpunk, Heist, Keith in suit and tie carrying a clutch bag is a good, Lance's persuasion skill needs work, M/M, partners in crime to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13237806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riotousorder/pseuds/my-ruu
Summary: “If you agree to go with me quietly, I won't have to pull the trigger and you won't have to suffer pain," Lance singsonged, pressing the gun harder against his temple.Every expletive Keith had prepared for Lance was forgotten as his mind locked onto a single word. Pain. He burst into a fit of giggles. Pain meant nothing to him. Pain was reserved for a human. He was anything but a human._______In which Lance failed at convincing Keith to join the rebellion and a heist. Did he also mention to Keith that the heist was on the company he was the president of? Oops, guess he forgot.





	human.exe

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, Len!! May 2018 bring you all the good luck and success you deserve!
> 
> To everyone, Happy New Year, too! Let's start 2018 with a successful heist! Wish you the best of luck in the year of the dog. Here's to hoping 2018 will be a good boy to us all!

 

Keith tapped his foot restlessly on the cement flooring of the parking lot, each tap consistently louder than the previous until he slammed his whole foot down in annoyance. Sharp clacking bounced around the empty lot and bounced back to him in an irritating orchestra of mutilated notes and rhythm.

 

He couldn’t, for the life of him, find his phone anywhere on his person. Keith clicked his tongue in annoyance, tapping down his jacket and pants one more time. The familiar bulge of the metallic-framed, square piece of glass was glaringly absent from everywhere on his body. Keith eyed his clutch bag lying the car hood, an expensive leather thing that Shiro forced him to bring in the place of his favorite comfortable canvas (and apparently unprofessional as Shiro had pointed out) backpack he was used to carrying around. He never put the phone in here, but on the off chance that he did. . .

 

Keith dragged it towards him with a huff and unbuckled the strap. Balls of rolled up paper and notes popped right out, falling onto the ground. Keith wanted to kick them all under the car but his conscience, a potato in Shiro’s wig, stared at him in disappointment even though it didn’t have any face until Keith caved and bent down to pick them up like every law-abiding citizen.

 

“Stupid phone. Stupid papers. Stupid potato Shiro.” Keith grumbled, chucking each ball of paper through the half rolled down car window with more vehemence than it was called for.

 

Printing all these papers was absolute redundancy. All of them were stored in the shared database and really, was having him hand-sign all of them necessary? Wasn’t his encrypted digital signature enough? Keith scoffed derisively. Whatever, those traditionalists of shareholders could either suck it up and make do with the digital contracts or they risked losing their shares. It was not Shiro running the corporation now; it was him, and no matter how temporary this was, they had to listen to him. The corps had given Shiro hell. Keith would rain hell back on them with an extra sprinkle of destruction and chaos.

 

With the papery obstruction gone, Keith thrusted his hand in and started rummaging around. Some candy wrappers, a pocket knife, pens, easy to squish and crush eye drops, another pocket knife, and a mixture of dirt and pieces of scrap paper from who knows where. It was a mess in there. The joy of single compartment bag.

 

Damn Shiro and his disappointed brotherly pout for making Keith carry this monstrosity around.

 

However, the icy smooth feel of his phone was expectedly missing from the plethora of miscellanies.

 

He must have forgotten it in his office after that long-winded, mind-numbing board meeting with all the old fogeys, and in a mad rush to make it in time to visit Shiro before hospital visiting hour ended. 

 

Keith swore under his breath, glancing at his watch.

 

7:37 P.M.

Visiting hour was going to be over in 53 minutes. The ride from Galra Tower to Central Hospital was a roughly 32 minutes provided that traffic was normal. That left him with only 21 minutes to discuss the business with Shiro and spend time with him.

 

Keith held his breath and listened. Through layers of concrete above him, the faint pitter-pattering of raindrops on asphalt reached his left ear. Growling rumbles of unmoving vehicles and prolonged honking mixed into the fold. Keith breathed out and allowed his hearing to recalibrate. 

 

Just his luck, traffic was  _ not _ normal. Each minute he wasted in the car park was one minute subtracted from the little time he had to spend with Shiro. Keith did a sharp 180 and took off towards the elevator in a run.

 

* * *

He made a brief stop at the reception and had the man working there relay a message to Shiro, telling him that he would be late today. Then he scrambled for the elevator, composure and appearance the furthest things from his mind.

 

Keith slipped the standard employee-issued key card into the reader, eyeing the CEO-reserved elevator at the end of the hall with muted indignation. He couldn't use it unless he had his phone and the activation sequence encoded into it. The elevator could zip him straight up to his office in under five seconds. As it were, Keith was stuck waiting for an elevator, keeping half an ear out for the familiar ding when one of the six standard elevators arrived.

 

His foot tapping grew in frequency the longer he waited; teeth-grinding clinks of metal sole on white marble echoed in the deserted hallway, joining in with the rumbling of rain to make an unforgiving symphony of restless ambient noise. Keith consciously stopped his foot from lifting off the floor. He drummed his fingers against his thigh instead, a soft, noiseless alternative. It worked for a total of six seconds when he growled in frustration and started drumming his fingers against the touch screen of the elevator call panel. Negligible click-clacks that got lost amidst the sound of raindrops hitting cement but gave him a sense of interaction and kept his mind away from boredom.

 

A melodic ding snipped through the boringly monotonous air.

"Finally.” Keith breathed out, moving towards D elevator, one of the better ones with glass walls instead of metal. When he stepped in, the little camera in the corner zoomed in on him. Keith brushed his bangs aside, giving the person monitoring the camera a full view to his left eye. It studied him intently before zooming out and turning a different direction. Keith tilted his head to let the bangs fall back in place, too used to the obtrusion in his vision to care.

 

Keith leant against the back wall, glancing at his reflection in the closing doors. He found himself smirking. Suit, tie, and dress shoes. Who would have thought? Even Shiro had blatantly gawked and teased him relentlessly when Keith had dropped by after the first day of work as Shiro’s step-in. His hair was as long and unruly as ever, freely curving outward at the nape of his neck. His left eye glowed an eerie pink even from under the thick bangs. His smirk dropped into its perpetual frown. Pink. Of all colors, it had to be pink. Couldn't Allura have picked something less obvious, like black or grey? Nope, she had to go with pink. Keith had every reason to believe she made it pink just to spite him for gawking at her neon pink heels when they had met for the first time a little over 11 years ago. A part of him humored the thought of Allura giving Shiro a cybernetic arm that glowed a hot pink hue before he banished the thought altogether. Shiro losing his arm in a car accident was not a joke. It could take him months,  _ years _ , to get used to having a robotic arm. Keith knew that. It took him half a year to adjust to the distorted vision of both a human eye and a robotic one, normal color and pixelated art, and seven months plus to make the headache go away entirely. And that was only an eye. Shiro lost an entire arm.

 

_ “You lost more than he ever did,” _ his mind whispered derisively. Keith shook his head sharply. He resolutely refused to think about the nightmare years.

 

Keith glanced down at the watch, not really to check time.

 

7:46 P.M.

 

He knitted his brows, teeth grinding together. At this rate, he might arrive at the hospital just in time for the visiting hour to end.

 

The elevator door was taking its sweet time closing, too. An arm length before the panels met. Half an arm length. The length of his abominable clutch. His phone. And finally, the panels were only three-fingers-wide apart. Keith slouched comfortably, closing his eyes.

 

But life wasn't on his side this night. Just as the panels was about to meet with a soft click, a hand shot through the gap, halting their process and making them start retreating to the sides again.

 

Keith masked his aggravation expertly by resting a foot up the wall with more force than necessary as the door opened fully to show an employee panting noisily with his clothes soaked through.

 

"Thank God-” he paused. "You-didn't close-" another pause. "The door. God damn these elevators are slow. Who would have thought a leading tech conglomerate would have the worst eleva-"

 

Keith watched with rapt attention as the employee’s attention locked on him, mirth wilting from his eyes and horror washing over his features. He contained his glee. This was the first time someone badmouthed Galra Corps in his presence.

 

"President Kogane! I-uh-didn't see you in there," The employee stammered out, twisting the strap of his shoulder bag so tightly he squeezed out water.

 

He wouldn't look at Keith at all, averting his gaze to a corner of the elevator as water puddled underneath him.

 

He seemed familiar. Keith had certainly seen him around the office, carrying papers and doing odd jobs. That mop of brown hair and bright blue eyes. Now if he would just glance over here and look  _ directly _ at him, Keith would be able to cross-check his face off the employees directory and put a name to a face.

 

"I can, uhm, wait for another elevator to arrive, sir,” He hesitantly spoke up when Keith made no reply, already shuffling backwards. In that moment, his eyes locked on Keith's, and he smoothly sifted through the online database for a match.

 

Lance McClain. 21. Cybernetic intern. Under Allura Altea's tutelage.

 

No wonder why he was familiar. Allura's office was right next to Keith’s, so of course he had seen Lance flitting in, out, and around.

 

"Get in." Keith tilted his head to the side in an invitation, shutting his left eye to halt an oncoming headache. When Lance didn't so much as twitch, Keith glared frostily at him. He was already late. Now he was going to be even later. "Stop loitering around and get in so we can both ride up."

 

Lance shot inside and hastily pressed the close button several times too many. He leant forward to pick a floor but his finger stopped halfway as he saw the number 144 had already lit up.

 

Keith groaned in his head. This sure looked like it was going to be one of those awkward rides where everyone squeezed together on one side while he was left alone and quarantined on the other.

 

At long last, the elevator shot upwards, bringing with it the moment of heaviness as gravity pulled him down, and the floor pushed him up. Lance kept quiet, and Keith wasn't in a conversational mood, so he, too, kept to himself and his thoughts.

 

They bypassed the first 44 floors at an impressive speed before slowing down as they reached the 45th floor, where the 3D billboard ad ended, giving way for a view to the glowing city below. Even from this high and through the curtain of rain and smog, lights still shone brilliantly, a prism of blue, pink, and yellow. Bullet trains whizzed along curve rails before disappearing into the belly of a high rise. This high up, hover vehicles were restricted after hundreds of accidents with buildings and implementation of costly safety foam that could only cover as much as 20 floors of a building.

 

Lights in the elevator flickered. Keith glanced up, perplexed. Malfunctioning tech was unheard of for Galra Corps. The elevator lurched to a stuttering halt beneath his feet before free falling, launching his heart straight up his throat.

 

"Oh, shit!" Lance yelled as the elevator steadied again, barely a floor down.

 

Keith kept quiet, but his heart was popping erratically, ready to burst out of his chest to launch itself against a wall and scream in terror.

 

Lights went out completely.

 

Keith stood stock still for a solid ten seconds before reaching towards to slam the call button.

 

"Elevator D in west wing is down. Request for assistance,” he spoke into the speaker, voice coming out surprisingly clear and unwavering despite the rattling of his heart.

 

No reply.

 

"This is President Kogane. I request immediate assistance. Elevator D. West Wing." Keith tried again.

 

This time, static answered him.

 

Odd. Mechanics and technicians were always at attention. Galra Corps had a reputation to uphold after all.

 

Keith slid his hand into the inner pocket of his blazer out of habit before he remembered the reason why he was stuck here in the first place.

 

"Can you dial the receptionist and inform him-" Keith said, half turning away from the panel to face Lance only to have the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against his side of his head.

 

Keith sighed out loud. This shit again.

 

"Are you going to shoot?" He asked, glancing at his watch for the third time in less than 20 minutes.

 

7:54 P.M.

 

He might as well be fashionably late and sneak inside Shiro’s hospital room through the vents. With no nurses to shoo him out, he could spend the night there. The sofa was quite comfy for a nap. 

 

"Nah, I’m not trying to kill you." Lance laughed, dropping his bag onto the floor. It landed in a heap of fabric, soundless and empty. 

 

They all said the same thing before shooting anyway. “Why the gun then?” Keith picked at the ragged edge of a fingernail he had bit earlier during one of the meetings.

 

"A precaution,” Lance singsonged. Keith felt a vein burst in his head. This assassin was the most annoying one he had met so far. Good god he wanted to punch all his teeth off. "If you agree to go with me quietly, I won't have to pull the trigger and you won't have to suffer pain." 

 

Keith had wanted to do a hardy-har-har at “go quietly” because of its sheer ridiculousness, then Lance had to outdo himself by mentioning pain. Keith burst into a fit of raucous laughter, shaking from head to toe.

 

"Pain? That's your leverage?" Pain was nothing to him. Pain was reserved for a human. He was anything but a human. 

 

Then he felt it. The muzzle slid a little downwards, as if Lance was unsure of how to react to a deranged, giggly Keith.

 

Keith wasted no time. He struck; a well-aimed kick to the ribs followed by an elbow right under Lance's chin. He came down easily, far too easily. Warning bells sounded in his head.  Keith stepped back, putting more distance between him and a downed Lance. He trained the gun he had yanked from Lance's slack grip on him.

 

"Who are you?" 

 

Lance spat out blood. Clearly Keith's strike had him bite his tongue. Keith glanced at the saliva-blood splash on the floor with more humor than he should have.

 

"Your eye told you, didn't it?" Lance said, grimacing as he clearly irritated the wound talking. "Man, you hit hard. Was it necessary? I was being courteously indulgent-"

 

Keith tuned the jabbering out. He wanted to smack himself. How could he forget his eye? He had fixed it with a rudimentary communication code and tuned it onto the city’s police comm line in case of an emergency, which was right about now. Keith subtly shifted his concentration to sorting through all the files he had on Lance and sent.

 

-Except they didn't go. They just hovered there, in his mind's eyes, as if an invisible wall was erected around his connection. 

 

"-jammed." Keith turned back to Lance, only to see that he was leaning casually against the wall, hands in pockets, far too casual for someone who had a gun pointed at their head.

 

"What do you mean?" Keith shifted target, aiming for the elbow instead. Something told him he needed to keep Lance alive. Elbows had a bunch of nerves there. Not too life threatening, but it would give him enough time to incapacitate Lance and get reinforcement. Keith was a lousy shot but given the distance of five arm-lengths away, he could certainly hit. 

 

"We jammed the signal, mullet. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. Isn't it obvious? Does your mullet grow from your brain cells and suck up your ability to think logically or something?" Lance's insult washed over Keith like air, meaningless and weightless. But there was one thing he was hung up on. 

 

“’We?’” He echoed, mind whirring. Every assassin he had met worked alone, under the contract of a single employer. If Lance had a team behind-

 

Shiro.

 

White hot anger and fear coursed through him. If they dare lay a finger on Shiro, he would hunt them down and make them regret every decision that had led them up to this point. 

 

"Gotcha curious, didn't it?" Lance smirked lazily, blue glow from the nearby high rise giving his smile a mad edge. Keith resisted the urge to just pull the trigger and be done with it. Intel, he needed intel. Lance couldn't speak if he was dead. "If you come with me quietly, I'll tell you. Pinky promise." Lance waggled his pinky finger playfully. 

 

"I ask again. Who. Is. 'We,'" Keith punctuated each word by applying more force on the trigger. 

 

An unconscious Lance sounded more and more tempting as seconds wore on. Keith gave in to the temptation and pulled the trigger. The gun distorted into pixelated squares and disappeared, leaving behind a piece of black plastic.

 

"Holographic." Lance offered as Keith crushed the thing underneath his heel with a resounding crack. “Genius, huh?“ 

 

Keith shot forward, aiming for the tendon. He was all about fair fight, but right now, he aimed for swift lethality. Shiro could be in grave danger. He needed to take care of things on his end as quickly as possible. 

 

Lance evaded by sheer luck as he stepped on the bag he threw down earlier to duck and slipped. 

 

His punch hit the glass wall instead. Spider web cracks spread upon impact. The entire elevator shuddered. 

 

"Holy shit! Hunk never said you can break military class glass!" Lance screeched from behind him, high-pitched and god damn annoying. 

 

Keith committed the name to his memory. Hunk. It could be code name, but at least it was a potential lead he could follow. 

 

The skin on his knuckles didn't break when he removed his hand from the glass. He saw Lance give it a wary look and position himself so he was a far away as possible from Keith in the  limited space of an elevator. Keith felt a rush of detached humor. No one ever looked at him and saw the human part of him anymore. 

 

His body moved on its own, going for the familiar high-kick then dropping down for a punch on Lance’s right side. 

 

Almost as if he anticipated it, Lance wove out of the way of the kick with apparent ease and could have dodged the punch too had Keith been any slower. As it were, Keith’s fist connected squarely with the spot he knew the liver located. Lance went down with a pained “oomph!” Keith hesitated in his final strike, a hand chop to the neck to completely knock him out. Lance was inexperienced, far too inexperienced to be sent in the field to get rid of him. Something was wrong-

 

Reinforcement.

 

Keith realized too late. Muzzle flash of a sniper rifle from a window of the opposite high rise was the only warning he had before a needle-like bullet lodged itself under his ear and sent waves of electricity across his body, shutting down his nerves and sending him crumbling to the floor in a convulsing heap. 

 

As his consciousness faded, a lithe shadow landed on the glass pane and shattered it with a palm to the surface. Flakes of glass rained down on him. 

 

“Pidge! I had everything under control,” Lance said, almost bending forward as he struggled to his feet. His arm wound over his own midsection tightly. 

 

“You almost foiled the mission, Lance.” The new person, Pidge, hopped in, her leg-thrusters dying down with a whining whirr. She kneeled in his vision, peeling his eyelids open. “Persistent lad. Still conscious after that shot.”

 

“What!?” Lance exclaimed, ever loud and piercing. “That was my highest charged bullet. It can fry the energy grid of Galra Tower! How can he be awake after getting shot with it?”

 

“Beats me. Now come help me move him. We need to rendezvous with-”

 

Noises dimmed around him little by little, like layers of fine cloth draped over his senses until, finally, unconsciousness pulled him under. His last thought was a prayer to a deity he didn’t worship for Shiro’s safety. 

**Author's Note:**

> welp, what a ride! 
> 
> Fangirl with me on Tumblr [my-ruu](%E2%80%9Dmy-ruu.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) or Twitter @MyoHaneul ^o^?


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